


Ten Pound [Wanna Bet?]

by The_Birds_And_Bees



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff, Other, Platonic Romance, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Birds_And_Bees/pseuds/The_Birds_And_Bees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You wouldn’t leave a poor, defenceless human out in the cold, would you?” </p>
<p>Asriel has the gall to snort at them, the cad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Pound [Wanna Bet?]

**Author's Note:**

> Welp time for sin again that sure was a quick break-

* * *

 

**As it turns out, I’m absolutely terrible at staying away from you.**

**It’s a very serious problem.**

**-Kiera Cass**

 

* * *

 

Two week, five days, seven hours- something something minutes. Time was never usually so linear, but Frisk supposed that it liked being that way, at least for the moment.

All the better to _annoy them with_ , laughs the big bad wolf called time. A big, bad, linear point of time to themselves; just enough to make ‘abroad’ become more familiar than home. They step in a puddle at the corner of the street, grimacing at the feeling of their sneakers flooding with cold water. Said puddle looked deceiving shallow. Isn’t, actually.

Good thing they’re not here to visit a puddle, or this would be a very uncomfortable time.

He’s been working on the gardens, again. It’s about the twentieth time he’s changed it all since they first moved in, and Frisk wonders if he’ll ever actually be satisfied whilst eyeing off the sea of overturned dirt and twine zig zagging around stakes stuck into the ground, the only features currently encompassing the front yard, brow raised, a quirk to their lips.

No, he won’t. What a dweeb.

They quietly bet themselves ten pound that he’s been up all night, waiting for them.

Fortunately, they’re not silly enough to take that wager. With a hop, skip and jump across the dirt mounds, Frisk raps their knuckles smartly against the door- the resulting hurried footsteps shuffling across linoleum flooring is practically _immediate._ Definitely no sleep.

“Hold up, Frisk! The door’s locked-” Oh, Frisk knows. Stepping back slyly as the lock clicks out of place, they link their hands behind their back, chewing on their cheek as the door opens and they’re greeted with an expression of genuine delight-

“Hello, sir. Would you like to learn about our lord and savior As-”

And the door shuts. Now they’re biting back a laugh, slouching against the doorway as their voice becomes a simpering croon, practically singing their words. “riel Dreemurr, open the door.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” He huffs back through the wood. Even if his voice is muffled, Frisk can’t miss the exasperated laughter playing about the edges of his tone. “I don’t want any. Return it to France.”

“Azzy…” A drawl. The Asriel in their mind’s eye wrinkles his nose in displeasure. Ten pound says he’s actually doing that, too. He’s not protesting, however. And Frisk is at least polite enough not to laugh. Just cough, a little.

“Frisk.”

“You wouldn’t leave a poor, defenseless human out in the cold, would you?”

Asriel has the gall to snort at them, the cad. They can hear him settling against the door; which is fine. About as fine as the way their shoes squelch unpleasantly when Frisk rocks back on their heels. “No, I wouldn’t. But _you_ are the complete opposite of poor and defenceless.”

“You wound me,” Frisk laments, hands pressed over their heart in a show of drama that would have made Metatton proud. “I could catch a cold.”

“You’re wearing that hideous parka.”

“It’s not hideous.” Just a bit baggy. And blue. They pluck a bit of lint off the front of it, idly considering kicking a bit of dirt at the door.in defence of their poor uncle’s taste in clothes; though they’d probably be murdered if someone had already planted seeds. “I could get mugged.”

“Oh, _please_.” There’s no mistaking the roll of his eyes, and Frisk raps their knuckles sharply against general vicinity his head might be resting in retribution. “You’d _Pacifrisk_ your way out of it; talk them all into admitting they just want to be bakers-”

“Or get their phone numbers.”

“Hey now.” That gets the door open. Just a crack; enough for Asriel to leer out at them with one eye as Frisk gives their best benign smile, hands going into the pockets of said ‘hideous parka’. The one uncle Sans gave them.

One of the ones he gave them.

“Where’s all your luggage?”

“Limo. Burgerpants is dropping it off at moms.”

“So you walked home.” The crack in the door widens, a little.

“Yup.”

“You must be freezing.” Wider still. Toothy smiles are generally reserved for close family and friends. Asriel counts as both. More? Undefinable in a positive sense, though not from lack of trying.

They simply were, in a similar fashion to the way Frisk’s smile simply was, unarguably, a smile.

“It may be too late to save my nose. Hands are all good, though.”

“You’re a pest.” He complains even as he throws the door open, and Frisk hums in complacent agreement as they fall straight into a very warm hug- one that carefully begins to walk them backwards down the hall.

“I missed you too.”

Ten pound says he won’t let go.

 

The door clicks shut behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s amazing how guilty you can feel for wanting two small children to grow up holding hands and cuddling a lot. I also blame Caity.

And Paychiri who is as super as their art is super mhmm. Please check their tumblr if you haven’t it’s worth it.


End file.
